


Peace When You Are Done

by nomelon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel and Dean Winchester Reunion in Heaven, Castiel in Heaven (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Loves The Impala, Dean Winchester in Heaven, Domestic Bliss, Feelings, First Kiss, Fluff and Mush, Idiots in Love, M/M, Post-Canon Fix-It, castiel finally gets to have dean, dean finally gets to have nice things, post-death sexual awakening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:47:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29136522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomelon/pseuds/nomelon
Summary: Dean doesn't really drive non-stop for forty years.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 20
Kudos: 188





	Peace When You Are Done

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is utter mush. And there are probably some important canon things I'm blissfully unaware of as I didn't watch the show for several years, but them's the breaks. The whole thing about Cas' name was something I read on tumblr then couldn't find again, so I do apologise for stealing your thoughts, random tumblr person.

Dean had _missed_ this: just driving, windows down, no ticking clock, no specific destination in mind. The Impala was like an extension of his body, reacting to the lightest touch, roaring down the country roads, probably scaring the bejesus out of any small furry creatures heaven had seen fit to let live in its perfect lush woodlands. He kind of wanted to talk to Jack about that. He wanted to talk to Jack about a lot of things.

His collection of tapes was still in a box in the passenger footwell, so Dean started out with a little Kansas, then played them back to back, blaring out his favourites, singing along and drumming on the steering wheel.

He could do this forever. He had nothing but time until Sam got here. Maybe later he could catch up some more with Bobby, or find out who else was living up here now. Maybe there was a town or something where he'd know someone in every house, or maybe they'd all have their own towns and there was some heavenly shuttle service so he could go visit.

Maybe planes wouldn't be so terrifying up here.

Maybe he could teleport.

Maybe he could fucking fly.

He still had some-- okay, a _lot_ of shit to work through with his dad, and the thought of living so close to him for all eternity was... no. _Hell_ , no. But the thought that they had the time and the opportunity to actually have those conversations and work through that shit now was pretty amazing. Heaven may have been a place where everyone could be happy together, hold hands and sing kumbaya, but there was no way in hell Dean was going to be able to just settle in down the road from his parents. He could visit. He could watch Mary run rings around his father. Maybe that would make it worthwhile.

Maybe he'd travel. Maybe he'd learn to sail. Maybe he'd climb mountains. Maybe he'd get a whole pack of dogs. Maybe, just for tonight, he'd get real drunk at Harvelle's, commandeer the jukebox and the pool table and take great pleasure in Ellen rolling her eyes at him from behind the bar, then sleep soundly, wake up without a hangover and go for bacon and eggs, smothered in ketchup. Dean's chest was full of nerves and hope, his whole body lit up with the _possibility_ of it all.

He came to a small crossroads, no signs in sight, and just sat for a moment, listening to the bassline rumble of the engine, wondering which way he should turn. He squinted against the low-lying sun and saw a little house through the trees.

Castiel was sitting on the porch.

Dean's hands clenched on the steering wheel.

He backed up and turned up the drive to the house: little more than a dirt track with grass and wildflowers growing between the ruts left by whatever else had driven up here over the years. He parked the car and just sat, listening to the pings of the engine as it cooled. Then he felt stupid because Castiel was watching him, so he took a deep breath and got out.

Castiel stood up as Dean mounted the steps.

"Hello, Dean."

Cas looked good, a little younger, like some of the weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Dean thought for a horrible moment he might start crying -- _again_ \-- but stepped in and hugged Castiel hard instead, hand clamped on the back of his neck. "You're here," he said, his chin hooked over Castiel's shoulder, holding so tight that his cheek brushed the angel's throat.

Strong arms wrapped around him and Castiel hugged back.

"I wasn't sure... I mean, Bobby said, but... It's really good to see you, Cas."

"You know, when you call me that, you make me your own."

Dean's face heated. He gave Castiel's shoulders a final squeeze and stepped back. "It's just… just a nickname. You got too many syllables."

"The suffix 'iel' means that I am of God. When you began to call me Cas… you made me your own."

Dean was pretty sure his entire upper body was blushing, which made no sense _at all_. "Oh. I was not aware of that. You never said."

"I know. I always liked it."

Dean put some more space between them and looked up at the front of the house. "This is your place?"

"Yes, all mine. I find it very peaceful here. There's a little stream out back. There are red squirrels. Sometimes deer."

Dean looked out over the little garden, a vegetable patch and apple trees and a whole bunch of other stuff he couldn't hope to name, neat little rows but nothing too cutesy, fading into the treeline. He didn't know shit about gardening, but it was clear someone had put in a lot of work to maintain it.

"You been growing vegetables?"

"I like drawing forth life from the earth."

"Isn't this all a little... How long have you been here, Cas?"

"A while," Castiel said.

"It's only been two weeks."

"Time moves differently here."

"Yeah, I heard."

"What brings you here, Dean?"

"I was just driving." Dean looked over at the Impala and smiled. "Looks like all cars go to heaven."

"Just yours. The most important car in pretty much the whole universe."

Dean spread his hands because hell, yeah, she was. "Maybe... you could take her for a spin later, y'know, if you like."

Castiel raised his eyebrows. Dean waved it away like it wasn't a big deal, even though they both knew that wasn't true in the slightest. "It's heaven, dude. You should get to do all the good things."

Castiel looked out at the car and smiled softly. "I would like to experience all the good things at some point. Were you driving anywhere in particular?"

"No, I..." Dean furrowed his brow. "I was… waiting, I think. Sam isn't…"

"He won't be. Not for a while."

Dean looked off at nothing in the middle ground, a faint smile on his face. "Yeah. That's good. That's real good."

"You could keep driving until he arrives," Cas said. "It wouldn't seem like long. Time works--"

"Different here," he said. "Yeah."

"Or you could stay awhile."

"Here?"

"If you like. As long as you like."

"Cas, I gotta ask… Is this really you? I mean, _really_ you?"

Castiel tilted his head.

"Jack got you out, right? Out of the Empty? This isn't…" He gestured with his hand between them. "This isn't some heaven thing, giving me what I want, right? It's really you?"

Castiel's smile started out slow, but ended up toothy and real. "It's really me."

"Good," Dean said, the word riding out on a relieved breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "That's really good." He sat when Castiel gestured to one of the wooden bench seats, then didn't know what to do with his hands. "How's Jack doing? It's not too much for him, right? He's doing okay?"

"You can ask him yourself," Castiel said, sitting opposite. "He's busy, but he makes it a point to come for dinner once a week."

"And if time moves differently?"

Castiel spread his hands. "Then there's more for the rest of us."

Dean grinned. "How does it work here? Do you still have to be an angel? Or is this your heaven, too?"

"I worked with Jack for a while. We had a lot to put right. Then... he said I could stay here as long as I wanted. " He looked out over the trees, over his little garden, dappled in warm sunlight. "This is heaven for all of us. It's whatever we want it to be."

"I didn't see you settling down in middle America and raising chickens. Hard to imagine it's all just going to be sunshine and roses. I mean..." Dean dropped his gaze. "My dad's here. Did you know?" Castiel nodded. "Yeah. I'm pretty sure there'll be a fistfight or three in my near future."

Castiel thought for a moment. "I'm sure that will be very cathartic for you."

Dean looked up, amused. Castiel was staring at him, just like he'd always done, like Dean was fascinating, like he was worthy of all that endless attention.

"Cas--"

Castiel stood up. "Refreshment. I should… Would you like a beer? Or I have lemonade, if you--"

Dean's hand darted out with little conscious thought and he grabbed hold of Castiel's sleeve.

"Just sit with me, would you?"

Castiel sat.

"What you said."

"I said many things."

" _Cas_."

Castiel quirked his lips and stared down at where Dean still had hold of his sleeve.

"Ah. That."

"You just laid that on me and then you--" Dean shook his head. "That broke my heart, man."

"I'm sorry. There wasn't time for much else."

"I never got to…" Dean's voice was betraying him, throat refusing to cooperate. "Never got to tell you."

"Dean?"

Dean looked up into clear blue eyes. He was sure Castiel could see right through him.

"I'll take that beer now."

"Of course." Castiel stood up. "You're welcome to stay for dinner, if you like." He disappeared into the house, screen door banging behind him, and reappeared a moment later, handing Dean an ice cold beer that was far superior to the one he'd shared with Bobby. They clinked and some suds ran over Dean's fingers.

"Was that a yes or no to staying for dinner?"

"Can I stay the night?" Dean took a large mouthful of beer to swallow past the lump in his throat as Castiel blinked in surprise.

"You have a house, you know. You can make it look like anything you want."

"Yeah, we're in the Good Place. I got the memo. I just... I don't want to face the rest of them yet."

"Are you hiding from your father?"

Dean scowled down at his bottle. "Maybe. But I just... I just want the peace and quiet." He shrugged, like it was no big deal one way or the other. "It's nice here."

"I'd be honoured," Castiel said, like he actually would be, the ginormous weirdo, and took a sip of his beer. "I've been experimenting with pasta."

"Oh yeah?"

"I was thinking I'd try linguini."

"Sounds great, man."

"I'll make extra meatballs."

Dean relaxed into his chair and tilted his face into the sun.

\---

Dean sat at the end of the counter in the little red-tiled kitchen watching Castiel work. He was making the pasta from scratch, which was kind of mesmerising to watch, especially the kneading part, although maybe that was only because the beer Dean was halfway down was his third.

Castiel asked him to lay the table, and set a massive steaming dish of pasta and meatballs in the centre, along with a dish of grated parmesan and a side dish of bean salad that Cas said all came from his garden. Dean took a spoonful, eyed it carefully, and hid it under a little pile of linguini at the side of his plate when Castiel wasn't looking.

They talked about the little things. Castiel said the house was rundown when he'd found it, but he'd thought it was perfect: a project he could work on, something he could focus on for a while that wasn't life and death, that was just his.

Dean badly wanted to ask him the deeper questions: what had it been like in the Empty? What had he been working on with Jack? When was Sam likely to get here? Had Cas spent any quality time with his parents? Was Cas still a card-carrying angel or was he something else now?

After everything, after all of it, was he okay? Could this place ever be enough to really heal any of them?

But instead Dean ate his linguini and meatballs and tried not to make sex noises over how good it was, and he listened to Cas talking about his garden and a few of his cooking disasters as he'd learned how to turn what he grew into meals. He heard the story about the fish Cas'd caught in the stream out back, but then couldn't bring himself to kill it, so he'd let it go again, and about the baby deer who kept sneaking into his garden to steal all the raspberries. Cas had foolishly named her -- Tabitha, because of course he had -- and hadn't quite gotten around to finding a way to keep her out yet.

When Castiel finally glanced up at the clock and suggested they turn in, Dean was surprised to see it was after midnight. Dean made a move to clear the table, but Castiel shook his head.

"Don't worry about. It'll be gone by tomorrow."

Dean frowned. "But you did the cooking yourself."

Cas shrugged. "I do the parts I enjoy. I don't particularly like washing dishes."

"Huh. Is there a manual to this place?"

"There will be if you want one."

"Is it more fun just to figure things out as you go?"

Cas stuck out his lip a little, considering. "I don't think I've even scratched the surface of life here. I've just been... enjoying the peace. Waiting for my friends to show up." He stood up. "Shall I show you to your room?"

Dean followed him up the stairs. Cas showed him to a bedroom and disappeared down the hallway. The room was simple: white walls, wooden floors and beams in the ceiling, a little rustic but warm and welcoming. Blue sheets on the bed and a wardrobe against one wall. A bookcase filled with paperback novels. A record player on a shelf. A reading lamp and a little old-fashioned wind-up alarm clock on the bedside table.

Castiel reappeared and handed him a couple of towels and a green toothbrush. "I'm just at the end of the hall if you need anything."

"What, you sleep now?"

"When I feel like it, I do."

"You feel like it now?"

"It's been a long day. A nap sounds good." Cas gave a little nod. "Goodnight, then."

He was halfway down the hall before Dean called after him. "Uh, Cas?" Castiel stopped and turned. "Just... thanks, you know? For letting me stay. This is way better than having to go to an empty house to be alone or, uh, have to deal with anybody else right now."

"You're welcome, Dean. You're always welcome here."

Dean shot him a little wave he immediately felt ridiculous about, and withdrew into his room. He looked for somewhere to set his toothbrush and saw tucked behind the wardrobe there was a tiny sink in the corner that he hadn't noticed before, so he brushed his teeth, washed his face, and stripped down to his boxers before climbing into bed.

It was even more comfortable than it looked, and Dean relaxed into it with a happy sigh.

"Memory foam," he said with a smile, and snapped off the light.

\---

Dean woke up late, but not too late, the little clock telling him it was just after ten thirty. He rolled out of bed, pulled on yesterday's t-shirt and jeans, and found the bathroom so he could pee and splash some cold water on his face. He padded barefoot downstairs in search of coffee.

Cup in hand, he wandered out onto the porch. Castiel was in the garden, wearing a dirty white t-shirt and ancient jeans torn around the knees and fraying at the ankles. He was barefoot with his toes in the dirt. Dean gulped at his coffee and nearly burnt his tongue.

Cas came up to the other side of the wooden railing that circled the house. He had a smudge of dirt on his forehead and a smile on his face. "You found the coffee." He stole the cup out of Dean's hand and took a swallow. He smiled up at Dean, squinting a little in the sun and licking coffee off his top lip. 

Dean was rooted to the spot. He couldn't be expected to stand up to this kind of onslaught first thing in the morning. He was only human.

Castiel looked concerned. "Dean?"

There were moments in life that defined you, changed you. Dean knew that for a rock solid fact. He just thought it was pretty sad he'd had to die before he figured out what that meant when it came to Castiel.

Dean leaned down and in and kissed him.

Castiel made the most amazing sound of surprise and dropped the cup to the ground where it splattered the remains of the coffee on his feet and rolled under a bush. He grabbed fistfuls of Dean's shirt and pulled him closer, opening up for the kiss.

When they broke apart, Castiel's voice was rough. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

Dean's heart was hammering wildly in his chest. He nodded, breathless. "This is heaven, right? Stands to reason I'm getting exactly what I want to make me happy."

" _Dean_."

Dean stared at him wide-eyed. "Cas, you... you really...?"

Castiel nodded. "I really do. I love you. I'm _in_ love with you. I've loved you for years." A little of the certainty faded from his face and he looked away. "I just thought you would never--"

"No!" Dean cupped his face to look him in the eye. "I... I mean... me... also. Me too, Cas."

"Don't look so terrified."

"I'm not. Really. It's just... a lot. I mean, I just died yesterday. In a barn. On a fucking _nail_ , can you believe it? So much for my big dramatic exit. And-and I had to... Sammy was..." He let out a sound of frustration and swiped an errant tear from his cheek. "And-and apparently I've been into guys this whole entire time, which... explains a lot, actually. You're not trapped in uber hell for all eternity, which is..." His breath tripped him up. There was still a lot to unpack there, apparently, way too large for a conversation already full to bursting with enormous and awful and exhilarating things. So Dean just shook his head. "I'm _gardening_ , dude. It's been a hell of a day."

Castiel was petting him, Dean realised, his hands on Dean's waist, rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs. "You're not technically gardening if you're just watching me do all the work."

"I'll rake something for you later. Maybe dig a hole. Burn stuff. I'm good at that."

"Hell of a day," Cas said with a smile.

"Yes, it is," Dean said, like it was the understatement of the century.

"More good than bad?" Castiel asked, staring at Dean's mouth.

"Oh, yeah," Dean said, drawing him back in, "definitely more good than bad."

This kiss got deeper, a little frantic. It was awkward, standing on different levels on either side of the railing, so Dean swung his legs over it so he could sit and let Cas crowd in between his thighs. This was better, this was a whole world of better. He could hold Cas close, he could pour everything into his kiss, all the things he had such trouble saying out loud, the dam breaking, nothing held back. 

Castiel stared up at him, lips parted, his hands tight on Dean's hips. Dean cupped his face, fingertips brushing soft dark hair.

"I was thinking… maybe I could wait here with you."

"For Sam to arrive?"

"Yeah. I mean, stay here. If that's okay."

"Of course, Dean. That's very okay. I prepared the room for you, after all."

Suddenly the books and the record player and the memory foam all made a lot more sense.

"You did that for me?"

"I was being optimistic."

"You didn't just want to share?"

Castiel _blushed_ , but bravely held his gaze. "I wasn't being that optimistic."

"I love you," Dean blurted out, and it was relief, it was joy, it was elation and fear and courage and peace all rolled into one. "I do, Cas. I love you. This is... Jesus. I should have manned up and told you a long time ago."

Castiel's smile was blinding. He touched Dean's face with a shaking hand. "Okay. Okay, that's... Yes. I think you should stay here with me. You should live here with me."

"I'd… I'd like that."

"There'll be more gardening. I'll make you actually try the beans."

"Woah, there, tiger. Baby steps."

"I've also been practicing my shooting. You could teach me."

Dean blinked. Castiel was lethal with a blade and a force of nature in hand-to-hand but his shooting had always lacked a little something. "Why do you need to shoot in heaven?"

Castiel shrugged. "Sometimes I just want to be loud and destructive and make tin cans go boom."

"Works for me. I want to sail."

"Why?"

"I dunno. 'Cause I never have. But if I get seasick we can do something else."

"We could learn together." 

Dean nodded, tugging him in for another kiss. He wrapped his legs around Cas because fuck it, in for a penny, and pulled him in until they were flush against one another, warm skin and thin cotton and endless kisses, wet and open and amazing. 

"We can learn it all together," Cas said, breathing hot into his mouth, his hair in mad disarray. "All the things we've never done, never thought we could have. We can do them all together."

Dean drew back a little and stared at him for a long moment. "Cas?"

"Yes, Dean?"

"You threw my coffee in the dirt."

"I'll make you more."

"Awesome," Dean said, and pulled him in for another kiss.


End file.
